


Leave

by chii



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting time off from missions and everything else is rare, but when it happens, Carolina always wonders why she lets York drag them to a bar, of all places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave

**Author's Note:**

> silly fic, doop doop. more tumblr reposts from ages ago.

It’s York that plans the night out— they all have time off, and they’re finally, finally hitting a lull with missions; that’s the best moment for it, really. He drags all of them— even Connie, who’d protested the whole goddamn way, out to the bar, and yes, he knew that was a good idea, thank you very much.

He’s endlessly grateful that really, the place seems to get a heavy stream of military officers and such on a fairly regular basis so the sight of a handful of tall soldiers meandering into the room doesn’t send everyone into fits.

Wash attaches himself to the far wall with a bottle of beer, Connie follows shortly after, watching everyone with narrowed eyes, and the rest take to wherever they can and want to. York, though- he chats up the bartender, and isn’t surprised when she gives him his first drink free after he asks about how her dog is doing, and how things are-- he remembers these things, and it always works well for him.

By an hour in, South’s broken a man’s nose, and York is just watching everyone, nursing a beer while he makes sure nothing else goes wrong, and Carolina sits heavily in the seat next to him. She’s tense; he knows it without even having to look at her.

“…what’s wrong, bosslady?” he asks idly, tilting his beer toward her, unsurprised when she takes it with a sigh and sips it. “Not lookin’ forward to getting all the ducklings back safe into their beds?”

“Your shirt, for one.” It’s awful, really— plaid and not even the good kind, if there was such a thing. But her real concern isn’t his hideous clothing, it’s something else entirely.“A bar. Of all the places you’d suggest, you suggest a bar. And I _let you_ suggest it.” She ought to have known, really, but she’d thought (foolishly, evidently) that he would have a little more sense. Just a little. “When you gave the address, I assumed it was—”

“Bowling? A strip club? A church?” York bumps his shoulder with hers, playful, watching North chat up the cute bartender, ten minutes earlier than he’d thought he would. He owed Arizona ten credits, damnit.

Carolina didn’t seem to find the questions as funny as he did, leveling a look at him that could make paint flake off walls. He, on the other hand, just turns and grins at her, shameless down to the last. The bar isn’t his worst idea, really, and if a broken nose is the only injury they have to deal with tonight, then he counts it as a victory.

“Hey! I was just told we couldn’t keep breaking into North’s stash, alright, so we—” York trails off abruptly when he sees her eyebrows raise, just like that.

“Stash.”

Aw, shit. Back-peddling is never fun, not really, and York gives her a winning smile, knowing she’s not buying a word of it from there. They’re not supposed to have alcohol on base, but really, sometimes they didn’t get time off for months at a time and not having anything good to drink wears on a guy.

“Stash! You know! Of— maaaagazines. Magazines. Lots of ‘em. But you know, stuff you wouldn’t be interested in.”

Carolina takes another slow drink of York’s beer, eyes narrow. “Magazines.”

“—yep.”

“That I wouldn’t be interested in.”

Somehow, York feels like it sounds worse when she says it, honestly.

“…You know. Porn.” Sorry, North. “Dude’s got it under his bed so I really recommend you just. You know, steer clear. I got your back, bosslady. Don’t worry.”

He hasn’t gotten any better at lying, not yet, but she doesn’t press the point, she just shakes her head at him and leans on the table, watching her team mill around, some of the guys playing pool together, others listening to the jukebox— maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.


End file.
